


Superstition

by roxyryoko



Series: Drabbles in the Dark [18]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Minor Caspar von Bergliez/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), b-support spoliers, fishing tournament
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24307195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyryoko/pseuds/roxyryoko
Summary: Marianne contaminated everything she touched with bad luck, including that vegetable Linhardt insisted that she hand him. Without a doubt that misfortune was the reason he had not caught a single fish the whole course of the morning and afternoon.Now with illustrations by Alayyae
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez & Linhardt von Hevring, Marianne von Edmund & Hilda Valentine Goneril, Marianne von Edmund/Linhardt von Hevring
Series: Drabbles in the Dark [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590193
Comments: 28
Kudos: 59
Collections: Those Who Drabble in the Dark





	Superstition

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt for this week was start your fic with "[Name] truly hadn’t meant to, this time." 
> 
> I wonder if I should change the series name to "Ficlets in the dark" since they all seem to be so much longer than drabbles now. Haha! Well, this pairing deserves more love anyway! 
> 
> Thank you to Abyssia and Engineer104 for offering advice on Linhardt's voice and character! And my IRL bestie Beth for editing!
> 
> Now with illustrations by [Alayyae](https://twitter.com/__alayyae)! OMG! ;_; I'm so honored by the fan art! Thank you so much!

Marianne truly hadn’t meant to this time.

But bad luck sprouted from her hands like a disease, contaminating everything she touched. Just like the head of cabbage Linhardt insisted she hand him. What a fool she was to believe for an instant that it could possibly be lucky. As smart as Linhardt may be, he simply could not fathom the horrors that her crest wrought.

Propped up lazily next to Caspar on the docks, Linhardt had not caught a single fish the whole course of the morning and afternoon. 

Without a doubt she was to blame.

In fact, her very presence at the fishing tournament was cause for alarm. Despite fish after fish fetched from the sea, no one had discovered the tantalizing specimen that could win over Flayn’s stomach. Undoubtedly, Marianne’s misfortune was seeping from her shadow, oozing over the cobblestone and planks, and spilling into the waters.

Goddess forgive her, she knew she shouldn't have come, but Hilda had wrangled her away from the threshold of the cathedral just after morning service, and now the two occupied the steps facing the docks. Hilda reclined, completely at ease, nibbling on the sugar cookies Mercedes had offered to all the participants and onlookers. Marianne’s portion remained untouched and she was resolute not to partake despite Hilda’s attempts to persuade her to indulge. 

Marianne couldn’t shake the thought that a dreadful mishap might occur if she were to relent to Hilda’s coaxing. What if while reaching for a cookie, her fingers grazed one Hilda later consumed? Just like the cabbage she'd given to Linhardt, it’d be cursed.

A bright giggle spilled from her companion’s— Marianne certainly didn’t deserve to address anyone as ‘friend’— lips as Hilda watched Caspar lurch from a tug on his fishing line. He yanked it back and clambered to his feet for better stability. The taut line skimmed across the water, droplets dancing wildly at the spot where it disappeared below the murky blues. 

Perhaps prematurely, Caspar bellowed triumphantly, “I bet this is the one! Told you I’d catch it, Linhardt!” 

The water battered violently over the planks of the dock, dampening the wood to a deep brown, and Caspar rocked forward once again, taken completely by surprise. The fish was just as stubborn a fighter as he, and the rod bowed as the fishing line creaked due to the strength of the creature.

Now absent of his friend’s shoulder as a pillow, Linhardt curled up against a wooden beam, holding his own fishing rod lethargically.

“Mind that it doesn’t catch _you_ , Caspar,” he murmured so low that Marianne could scarcely hear him from her current perch.

Hilda offered encouraging cheers such as “you've got this!” and “whoo-hoo!” to Caspar, which only served to embolden him and incite his ego. Several other chuckling onlookers were equally delighted by the spectacle and rallied for his success.

After a grand battle, Caspar finally reeled in his catch. Unfortunately, his foe was hardly a fish of meritable proportions. The crowd jeered in good fun. He lamented loudly, steamed visibly, and tossed the fish into the nearby pail. Hilda snickered, attempting to hide her indelicacy behind her hand as Caspar stomped back over to his previous spot and sat down in a huff. Linhardt offered him some unprompted advice, but Caspar only simmered more.

“What does that have to do with anything?” he shouted, before declaring with renewed determination, “Just watch! I’m going to win this thing for sure!”

Lindhardt hardly seemed to be listening.

As Hilda reached for another sweet, still cackling, Marianne couldn’t help but feel the prick of a thorn in her heart. If Hilda found so much entertainment in watching the mishaps and successes of the day, surely, she could do without Marianne’s poor company.

“Hilda,” Marianne began in a soft voice, rising to leave. “I think I best be going now. I’m sure you’ll have a better time without me anyway.”

Hilda’s laughter died in her throat, and she blinked up at Marianne, brow furrowed in offense. Even though Marianne was used to such looks of discontentment, it still stung. However, Hilda’s words were not what she expected. 

“How can you think that, Marianne? _Of course_ , I’ll have more fun with you here.”

Marianne twisted her skirt in her hands. “I’m certain that can’t possibly be the case.”

Hilda motioned to place her hand atop Marianne’s, but paused an inch away when Marianne recoiled. She promptly withdrew it and offered a reassuring smile—a smile wasted on Marianne. 

“You know,” Hilda began, but the rest of her speech was deafened by a roaring, tumultuous gust of wind that whipped across the lake, producing a frenzy of ripples. Another thundering howl followed, its pitch deeper and more bloodcurdling. Before Marianne even looked up, she knew that a wyvern soared overhead.

The crowd below marveled, whistling and “ooh-ing” as a flock of twenty or more dragons swept across the sky, eclipsing the sun, and casting dark shadows below. Dragon migration was not an uncommon sight in certain parts of Fodlan during Wyvern Moon, but most of the students had never witnessed the splendorous display, and certainly not on such a grand scale.

“So awesome!” Caspar exclaimed, and within seconds he loomed above Marianne and Hilda with a huge grin turned to the sky. For a brief moment he lowered his gaze to them.

“You guys gotta come with me! I know the best place to get a better view!” He twisted back around and shouted even louder, “Linhardt! Come on! Let’s go!”

He waited a moment, but his friend didn’t budge, only sending them off with a weak wave. Caspar dismissed him with a roll of his eyes and an exasperated puff.

“You’ve got my attention,” Hilda chirped and rose to her feet, brushing crumbs from her skirt. She turned on her heel to face Marianne. “And you’re coming too!”

Immediately, Marianne blurted, “No!”

She swiftly composed herself when Hilda’s eyes widened. Marianne’s gaze dropped to her hands. “No, that’s quite all right. You two should go enjoy it. I wouldn’t want to be a bother.” 

Marianne knew a calamity would befall if she were to come along.

“You’re really gonna miss out,” Caspar commented, glancing back up at the migration before addressing Hilda. “We gotta move now or we’ll miss out, too!”

Marianne could feel Hilda’s eyes on her, but when she peeked upward, Hilda sighed and admitted defeat. “Where’s this spot?” she asked Caspar.

“Come on, I’ll show you!” Beckoning with a wave, he sprinted away.

Hilda followed, struggling to keep up with his eager pace, heels clicking against the cobblestone. “Do we _really_ have to run?” she whined but it was laced with a giggle.

Marianne watched them depart, mixed feelings blossoming in the pit of her stomach. Deep down a part of her did want to participate, but she knew better than anyone that her absence was for the best. She took the opportunity to slip away while she had the chance. Hilda would surely be disappointed upon her return, but her disappointment would be greater in the future if Marianne remained.

She dusted off her skirt and straightened her cape, but had only taken a few steps in the direction of the dormitories when Linhardt’s drowsy call, a whisper compared to the cries of the beasts, brought her to a halt.

“Ah, Marianne! Excellent timing. Won’t you do me the favor of joining me? I fear I may fall asleep without something to occupy me.” 

Marianne tilted her head to meet his heavily lidded eyes, opening her mouth to protest when he cut her off with the addition of, “You wouldn’t want me to pitch into the lake, now would you?”

Her nails dug into her palms as she declined, “I’m very sorry, Linhardt, but I’ll no doubt bring that to pass if I do.”

He regarded her a moment, seemingly lost in thought, but then the faintest smile graced his thin lips. “I'll risk the gamble.”

He yawned again, covering his mouth with his palm.

“Saints, am I drowsy,” he murmured to himself before addressing Marianne again. “I’m not much for idle conversation, but your presence will at the very least give me a reason to stay conscious.”

Marianne shook her head, apologies at the tip of her tongue, when he suddenly swayed forward, olive hair hurtling toward the dark depths.

“Linhardt!” she shouted and rushed to his aid, barely catching him by the edge of his cape before he stumbled off the deck.

“Much appreciated,” he muttered with a wry smile after she righted him. With another yawn, he added, “May as well join me now or I may not be so lucky next time.

He reeled the hook of his rod back in and snagged new bait onto the sharp claw before casting the line back out. Sluggishly, he settled back into a comfortable position against the beam on the edge of the dock.

Marianne crouched by his side, guilt infecting her like a curse. She couldn’t bear to look at him, instead scrutinizing her hands, scrunched tight into balls.

“Nothing good will come from me staying. I’m positive the Goddess isn’t favoring you with bounty today because…because…” She trailed off—did speaking it make it true?

“You believe the vegetables cursed me with bad luck, is that correct?” He rolled a sleepy eye towards her. “I would beg to differ, but arguing seems like such an unnecessary exertion.” 

Linhardt yawned yet again, the most violent one yet. “Perhaps you should take over. The lake is lulling me to sleep.”

Before Marianne could react, he thrust the fishing rod into her lap. Protests flew from her lips as she lurched to catch the rod before it rolled off her thighs.

“N-no! Linhardt! I can’t! I’ll just— ’’

Suddenly, the tip of the rod bent at an acute angle, and she was propelled forward, barely maintaining her grip on the pole as an unseen force wrenched on the hook. The line went taut, ripples forming around where it met the water’s surface.

Linhardt heaved a sigh. “So much for a rest.” 

Wrapping himself around her, his hands gripped the pole, brushing against Marianne’s, and she could feel the edge of his collarbone press against her shoulder. The touch set her cheeks ablaze. He tugged, climbing to his feet, which forced Marianne to rise in-sync. The uncharacteristically quick and determined movement startled her just as much as his breath washing across her neck. 

“Let’s get this over with quickly, shall we, Marianne?” 

Her cheeks became an inferno. 

He shouldn’t be so close. He shouldn’t be _touching_ her! Her heart pounded, a tempo more dissonant and wild than the jerks on the fishing line. Such prolonged exposure would certainly cause horrors to befall Linhardt, horrors even her nightmares couldn’t conjure. 

Marianne’s eyes screwed shut. She needed to get away, but his arms were enclosed around her. 

Unexpectedly, he tossed them back. She shrieked and stumbled, the heel of her boot catching in between the planks of the dock. They collapsed backwards, falling side by side onto their bottoms, feet sprawled out in front of them, still clutching the fishing rod.

“Ah,” wheezed Linhardt from beside her after he caught his breath. “My hypothesis was correct. You are indeed extremely lucky, Marianne.”

Befuddled, Marianne tentatively opened her eyes and gaped at the sight before her. A few inches in front of her feet, an enormous silver herring flopped in a puddle, hook still trapped in its gum.

“Oh my!” A voice cried from the left, audible over the now distant cries of the wyvern. Marianne recognized it as Flayn instantly. “That looks simply scrumptious!”

Linhardt released the fishing rod and climbed to his feet with exaggerated effort, as if it was the most draining exercise imaginable. He then offered her a hand, accompanied by the gentlest of smiles. 

“Curses and other such silly notions are simply superstition, Marianne. I do hope I can convince you of that one day.” 

Hesitantly, Marianne took his hand. 

Perhaps, she was starting to believe him.

**Author's Note:**

> Please kudo and comment if you enjoyed this! :D
> 
> Hang out with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/roxyryoko) if you want!


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